


Supernatural: A Fight For Life

by marunaex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/M, Multi, Other, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24040981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marunaex/pseuds/marunaex
Summary: Zoey isn't you're typical day-to-day woman that you meet between passing. No, she's far more than just your average woman. She's beautiful, smart, fearless, and will beat your ass any day. That's not all there is to this fierce woman. Zoey is a woman who hunts, and when I say hunt, I don't mean your typical hunter. This young woman braves the unknown by hunting creatures that hide in the night.You could imagine that such a life is pretty hard on a person; but Zoey manages to get by. Having the help every-now-and-again from Dean and Sam. Life was going pretty great, until...She happened upon an Angel: A Lost Angel, who was fighting off a group of demons who wanted her, and were willing to put their life on the line.What exactly is a Lost Angel? What do demons want with her?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)





	1. Where It All Began

"Dad," a young boy lowered his book, his green orbs looking up at the back of his father's head, a curious look upon his features as he waited for a moment to continue. "Yes, son?" he heard, just barely over the blaring sound of rock music that the boy knew word for word, having heard the song many times before. "It's getting late, I'm hungry," placing his book down, the twelve-year-old unbuckled himself from his seat, and pushed himself forward, draping his body over the back of front seat of the Impala. "Are we even in Augusta, yet?" He questioned, his green orbs peering out the windshield, taking in the city's busy streets. Watching as vehicles of all kinds drove on by on the opposite side of the road, their lights beaming off the water beading off the windows.

Sighing, and stopping the tapping of his fingers that moved to the beat of the music that was slowly fading so that the young boy could be heard, the other male who appeared no more than sixteen-years-old turned his hazel orbs to look upon his younger sibling. A smirk pulling at his lips, as he playfully shoved his brothers arm. Motioning for him to get back into his seat.

"Sammy, sit down, and buckle up, would'ya?" His voice was playful, but at the same time, held concern, and Sam could tell that he was being demanding. Sam's older brother was very protective over him, always trying to make sure that he was safe. Even if it meant silly things like, sitting in his seat in a moving vehicle, and staying buckled up. It was safe to say, that he took his job very seriously.

Sighing, Sam returned to his seat, feeling almost defeated, as he pulled his seat belt back over him, and clicked it, giving ease to his brother's mind. "Sorry, Dean. I'm just hungry," He explained softly, just as his stomach rumbled, which caused him to rub at his stomach solemnly with a grumble resonating within his throat, indicating that the growl hurt. Noticing, Dean turned his gaze to look at their father, "Dad, that is a good question, when will we get some grub?" he too, questioned, draping his arm over the seat of the Impala as he watched his father's face for any answers that may be there. But also trying to get their father to answer Sam's question.

The abruptness, and deepness of their father's voice startled the two boys, "There's a diner just up ahead. May even get some clues as to what's exactly been going on around here, lately," He explained. He pointed his finger over the top of his steering wheel, and to a diner that was just a bit up ahead; Margret's. A local owned diner that had great reviews by many people in the state, and especially by those who lived with the city limits. They were known for having the best steaks, and hamburgers for miles around.

They weren't in Augusta, Georgia, for no reason. The three of them traveling here to hunt a monster that's been having some fun for the last few months. People, from all walks of life, have been reported missing. None of them being heard from again, nor even seen alive, again. If the police found any of the missing persons, they only found the corpses, each and every one of them drained of blood, with no signs of any struggle. All autopsy reports indicated that the loss of blood was never from any type of animal attacks, leaving the police, and investigators stumped in the cause of death. All that could be visibly found, were ligature markings around the wrists, and ankles, showing that they were bound before killed. Due to their little evidence on what was the cause, the autopsy reports became inconclusive, ending all search for watch killed the individual.

But their father, John, knew better. He knew that something much more sinister was at work here. But, exactly what was going on? He had no idea, and he was determined to find out, and put an end to the matter as soon as he possibly could.

Eventually, the lulling rumbling of the engine came to an abrupt halt, pulling John out of his raging mind, as his deep brown orbs settled upon the bustling diner. Watching as couples, or families entered, while others were leaving towards their car. Smiles upon their faces, and their children happy, while they jumped into puddles that covered the ground of the parking lot, having no cares in the world as they soon ran to their parent's car, hopping, and waiting for the doors to be unlocked so they can jump inside from the cool air. The creaking sounds, and the slams of the door resonated within the lot, as the smell of wet Earth filled their senses once they were standing in the cool air, making their way towards the diner silently.

As the family entered the diner, warmth washed over them in a welcoming embrace, and the first thing that filled their senses almost immediately, was the smell of the delicious food being cooked in the kitchen, causing the stomach of Sam to growl loudly this time around, his hand reaching to hold his stomach as they were soon greeted by a waitress wearing black clothing that was form fitting.

She was a young woman, around the age of twenty-three, with thick blond locks, and soft round features. Her brown orbs took in the family, and she smiled kindly at them, as she raised her voice so that they could hear her over the music that was playing. "Smoking, or non-smoking?" she questioned, grabbing three menus, and three rolls of silverware from the podium that was stationed a few feet from the threshold, as her head bounced to the song that blared right above them, due to the speakers. It was a catchy tune of the recently released country song: If You're Not In It For Love, I'm Outta Here! by Shania Twain. Quickly, John answered, "Non-Smoking, please," and she smiled softly, leading the family further into the diner.

The further the waitress lead them into the diner to the non-smoking section, the softer the music became. It was getting to the point that the farther they were, the more softer music became. It was almost inaudible, due to the voices, and laughter of the many people that inhabited the diner. But, anyone who enjoyed this genre of music, of simply, even loved the artist, Shania Twain, could still hear the beat, and tune of the music, and still understand what words she was singing. The atmosphere was so lively tonight, that it was almost as if these people who have gone missing simply... never went missing. But that was a morbid way of seeing things. These people knew what was going on, and probably chose to not think about the terrible nightmare that had been going on.

There was no point in living in fear, right?

Soon, the waitress brought them to a halt at an empty booth, and she began setting the menus, and rolls of silverware wrapped in napkins down onto the clean wooden table top before each seat, that was illuminated by a dim light that hung just over the middle of the table. Giving them a sense of warmth, and coziness. The waitress turned on her heel, giving them a bright, and warm smile as her hands reached down into her apron, pulling out a small notepad, and pen. "Alright, fellas, my name's Mindy, and I'll be your waitress for the evening. What can I get ya'll to drink, hmm?" She hummed in a delightful tone that was sweet, yet sassy. It wasn't until now that they realized that she had a thick, southern bell accent, which was strangely soothing, but kind.

Sam cleared his throat, as he nervously spoke up, being the first one out of the three to answer Mindy, "I'll have just a glass of water, with lite ice, please," he answered, taking a seat upon the soft red cushion of the booth. Making it so that he was on the inside, and Dean would be on the outside of it. His choice of drink was him sticking to his decision to try and be more healthier, so that he would never, ever be bullied by anyone for being 'over-weight'. Sam kept his reasons to himself, not wanting to worry Dean about something he can easily handle on his own. He was thankful that the waitress didn't question him about his choice, instead, she nodded, and jotted down what he wanted on her pad, and peered up at the other two males, "Okay, and what else can I get for ya'll?"

Shortly after Sam took his seat, Dean scooted in next after him, his elbows propping up on the table as his loose powder-blue plaid sleeves rolling down his toned forearm to expose his soft sun-kissed complexation; his light hazel green orbs lowering to the menu that laid perfectly before him, opening it. Coyly, his voice could be heard, musing, "I'll take..." he hummed in his not so quite deep voice, he began flipping pages, Dean's eyes scanned over each one, searching for the section that read Beverages, and once found, his eyes looked over each drink, unsure of what it was that he was craving.

"Sprite," He finally answered, his gaze looking up at Mindy as he gave her a playful grin -- trying his best to be suave. Mindy gave a flattering giggle, brushing him off as she scribbled down his order. Dean, unlike Sam, didn't care too much about his weight, and managed to always remain a healthy weight. Probably genetics, but he didn't struggle like Sam did -- but he also didn't realize that Sam was dealing with anything about being bullied by other kids about his weight. Because if he did? He would have put an end to it, quickly.

"Alright, one glass of water, and one glass of sprite, and what can I get for you, honey?" Mindy questioned, her brown orbs gazing over John's thoughtful features, waiting.

He soon noticed her eyes upon him, and gave her a quick, tight-lipped smile, sliding into the booth just across from his boys, and placing the keys to the Impala onto the wooden table's top as quietly as they would have allowed. "Sweet tea, please," he answered quickly as his dark brown orbs looked around the diner absent-mindedly. "Alright, I'll be right back with your drinks. Please, take a look through our menu, we have tons of plates to choose from. May I suggest or ribeye steaks -- they're our best plate that we serve." With a curt smile, she turned away on heel, and she quickly disappeared into the crowd.

"She seems quite chipper," Dean said, finally, breaking the silence with his wit, as he gave a quick roll of his eyes, flipping through the black menu to look at the sections for the diner's steaks, and their hamburgers. Deciding in his mind, that he would go based on which meal would be more of a decent price, and that would meet to his satisfaction of his taste.

"You said it," Sam laughed, his lips curling into a smirk as he began to flip through his menu, but instead of looking for hamburgers, or steaks, like his father, or Dean, he choose to look for a more healthier alternative; Salads, or anything that would catch his eye. Maybe a Cobb salad, or even a Chef's salad would do, he thought. Anything would be better than something greasy.

"Boys," John said in a stern voice, though his expression on his face betrayed what he was trying to convey. "Be nice," he warned, though a smirk pulled at his lips, as he too, began to look through his menu. "You boys know what you want?" his voice was deep, and calm, as he closed his menu, sliding it toward the end of the table to make it easier for Mindy to retrieve it when she returned. He then propped his elbows up on the table, crossing his arms as he watched over his boys with a raised eyebrow, curiously.

"I'll take the usual, Dad," Said Dean, as he closed his copy of the menu, and placed it atop of his father's, "Cheese burger. All the way, with seasoned fries. What about you, Sammy?" Dean shifted himself in his seat to look at his brother, who was now, too, closing his copy, and handing it to Dean to place atop of the other two menus. "A Chef Salad, with a side of cheddar and broccoli soup," he smiled softly. Though as soon as it appeared; it faded.


	2. The Hunt Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey is on the trial of something, while her last is still bothering her. What is she hunting? We'll soon find out...

Sam heard crying, over all the laughter - over all the happy, chipper voices that blurred into one giant roar with each other. Even over the change in song as it began to blare just lightly when the chorus of Check Yes or No by George Strait. He heard the distinct cry of distress; troubled, hurt, and desperate for help. As if their world had just began to crumble apart before their very eyes. He could feel their hurt, and how sad they felt as it resonated deep within his chest, making a pit form in his throat, as he swallowed, feeling helpless. Hearing it as loud as ever, his green orbs shifted to his father, and then immediately over to his brother, Dean. Hoping that they had heard it, too.

He didn't have to question if they heard the cries - because they indeed did.

Dean's body became rigid, showing that he was ready to jump up from his spot, the moment his father was ready to give word. His eyes remaining still on his father; steady as he took his breaths. Watching as John's body turned in his seat to look for the source of where the crying was resonating from. Crying generally meant many things for a human. Loss, breakup, something hurtful had just happened in their lives. They could hope that the crying meant they have just lost someone close to them - it was all they had a this moment. They were here to investigate, after all.

Off in a corner, not too far from where the small family sat, they finally located where the crying was coming from. "Boys," John said, his brown orbs shifting to look at the both of them, "Ready," Dean said, not allowing his father to finish his sentence as he pulled himself out of his seat, ready. "I'll wait here, then," Said Sam, as his eyes gazed over the area where the crying was coming from, and noticed that many people were surrounding the table, "Doesn't look like there is much room for all three of us, anyway."

"Alright, Sam, we'll motion you if anything happens," Said John, as he too, got up from his seat, grabbing his keys to slide them into his blue jean pockets. Adjusting the collar of his big, tan jacket, he and Dean took off toward the small crowd.

"Amber, dear," a woman spoke gently to a crying, distraught woman. Her voice, while sounded young, belonged to a woman well into her sixties, her tired icy blue orbs held pain as she watched the broken woman before her. Her hair was pulled back into a tired, messy bun, with fragile, soft blond tresses falling into her pale, white features. "I'm sure the police are doing everything they can. Your daughter, Zoey, needs you more than ever right now," Her hand gingerly reached out and rubbed the back of Amber's shoulders, trying to offer her some comfort. Hoping that, by doing so, any positive energy that she was emanating would somehow lift her spirits. But the crying mother just sat there, her teared-stained face held by her shaking hands.

Sitting across from Amber, was a young teenaged girl, Zoey, who looked to be about the age of thirteen. Her soft, bright, blue green orbs were tired against her soft olive complexion. Her oval face, while soft, and smooth, even appeared tired, while underneath her eyes were dark in shade, showing that in the past few days, she wasn't getting very much sleep. Her hair, which is the shade of bright auburn, was pulled up into a high-ponytail, with a tuff of bangs webbing over her features just slightly - her hair was the only thing that was neat about her, as too, were her clothing. Being a teenager, clothing expressed yourself, and despite going through this hard time in her life - she still tried to present herself well.

One glance at her, and anyone could tell that whatever was going on within their family, was effecting her, just as well. Maybe not to the degree that it was effecting her mother, but she seemed lost and unsure of herself in this moment. Despite her own feelings, she was trying to stay strong for her, be her mother's rock in his hard time, because she knew that her mother had no one right now. Not a boyfriend, or any type of lover - because God forbid her birth father would actually return to their family and be a parent and husband like he should have been before she was born. To hell with the fact that she was born a female.

Quietly, Zoey felt herself become angry. Her gaze watching over her mother as she softly gnawed on the inside of her cheek, her nails digging into the palms of her hands; frustrated by everything.

It seemed, though, no matter how hard she tried, no matter what it was she did, nothing would make Amber happy. She would only cry, sulk, and hide away from everyone and everything. Understandably so, but it made Zoey feel helpless. Like she wasn't enough. The only reason they were even here at this diner was because they were hungry, and just left the police station giving any more information they could on Amber's missing son.

"They aren't doing their job!" Amber cried through sobs, her hands finally pulling away from her face to reveal blood-shot light blue-green orbs - the same as Zoey's. "I want my boy home. It's not safe out there - there is no telling what's happening to him right this minute!" Her cries made her sound so helpless, and defeated. "I keep going to the police station, giving them any details I can. To see if they have any information on where my son is, and nothing. It's like they're not even trying to find him! It's been days, Margret!" She slammed her fists upon the wooden table, causing her cups that were filled with beverages to rattle on the table.

"Amber," Margret, the elder woman spoke, her voice still soft, and sure. "Don't give up. He has to still be out there. Just leave it in God's hands, dear..." Gently, she continued to rub her back, hoping that she'll calm down.

Amber's gaze turned into a glare, wanting to say something that she would probably regret later, but the clearing of a throat caught her attention, and her eyes settled upon a man, with a young boy standing beside him - somehow they managed to make their way through the dense crowd and up to the table. Standing just a few feet away from Margret. "Oh, hello," she greeted, sweetly, "Is there anything I can help you fellas with?" She turned completely away from Amber to face the new faces before her.

"Hi," John answered, a small smile crossing his features, "I'm John Schmitt," He greeted, giving a fake alias as he flashed an I.D. and badge quickly stating that he was indeed an investigator - although, unbeknownst to the people standing around, it was fake information. "I'm an investigator hired by the local police department to look into the case of your missing son," he explained. "Do you mind telling me everything that you know?" He questioned, giving Amber a kind look to help her be more open with him.

"O-Okay..." She responded, wiping away the tears that stained her features, giving a sniffle.

"Do you mind if I sit down next to you?" John questioned, pointing to the chair next to her, "No, go ahead," She forced a smile, brushing her dark hair from her face as she sat up in her chair, her eyes following John as he made his way around her to sit in an empty chair right next to her. "This is my son, Dean, my other son is just over there at our booth," He pointed, at the younger male, and then the boy sitting down. "We were out for dinner, it was luck running into you like this. We heard you crying, and decided to talk to you now, rather than tomorrow, I hope that's okay."

Amber nodded her head, "You're fine. I just want my boy. This is my daughter, Zoey," She motioned her hands to the girl sitting across from her. "Nice to meet you, Zoey," John said. Dean pulled the chair out from beside Zoey, and he smiled crookedly at her, a glint in his hazel eyes, "Nice to meet you, Zoey, I'm Dean."

Twelve Years Later

"Do you love me, do you wanna be my friend? And if you do, well then don't be afraid to take me by the hand, if you want to. I think this is how love goes: Check yes or no"

The song became nothing more than a lull at this point to Zoey as she drove on down a quiet road, alone. Not even realizing that the song that was playing was country, which wasn't even her genre of music - but her mind picked up on the tune. Bringing back memories from when she was a young teenager - from the time her brother went missing, to when she met that family that helped all those years ago. So much happened that year, that when she looked back on it, she was surprised by how much it had changed; How much she changed.

Clearing her throat, she shifted her foot, and simultaneously, she down shifted gears of her vehicle, entering the city limits of, Syracuse, New York, as she began to take an exit to get off the interstate. The first thing on her to-do list, getting a hotel for the next few days while she investigated a new string of missing persons going on in this city. Everything was the same from all those years ago. From when her brother came up missing - to drained blood of victims. Everything. She felt in her gut, that she knew what the real cause was, but of course, every hunt, came with it's own set of investigations just in insure that she was right in her thoughts.

Making a left onto a new street, the music in her vehicle began to wind down as she began to turn the music down so she could focus on the light traffic that was zooming around her. It may have been night, but Syracuse was also one of those cities known to be busy all hours of the day. She was looking for a Super 8, and once she located the hotel, she entered the parking lot, and came to a stop in the lot. Placing her vehicle into park, she turned the vehicle off, and exited it, grabbing all needed belongings; duffle bag, cell phone, wallet, keys - the important items.

The night air was cool, but warm as a soft breeze ruffled her auburn hair, and brushing her olive skin that was exposed on her arms. The air had the putrid smell from the burning exhaust of vehicles, as well as the stacks burning from factories that were some miles away. She paid no mind to it, since she would soon be inside the lobby of the hotel getting herself a room.

"One room, for a week, please," she chimed to the unsuspecting employee who was draped along the countertop, watching a video on youtube, looking almost as if he was asleep in the position that he was in. The employee jumped slightly, stretching out his limbs and giving out a yawn as he sat up in his seat, "One bed, or two?" He questioned, and although the question was dumb, it was mandatory to ask to insure that she didn't have people waiting out in the car for her, or expecting any guests. "One," She answered, leaning her hips against the counter as she became impatient.

She had stuff to do, and little time to do it.

"Alright, that'll be four-hundred and twenty-five dollars, and sixty-seven cents for the week," He explained, "If you decided to not stay the entire week, we will pro-rate your stay, and you will be refunded the remaining amount," he went over his usual spiel, something that he had to explain to customers who stayed longer than a day. "Thank you," Zoey replied, adjusting her weight from one foot, to the other, "Here's your keys, your room is 108, which is to the left when you leave through here. If you need anything, do call, and I'll have maintenance or myself help in anyway possible. Have a good night."

With nothing more than a nod, and a glum smile, Zoey turned out the same way that she entered, following the directions given to her by heading left, and going down exactly eight doors.

Her door was a simple dingy white door, with spray-painted numbers hung just under the peep-hole. Giving a sigh, she began to unlock the door, and entered the musty, warm room. "Do they never turn the air on?" She complained, dropping her duffle on a nearby table, and tossing the room keys, along with her own car's key beside the bag. Closing the door, she instantly went to the window unit, turning it on so that it could cool the room down, in hopes that it would remove the terrible warm smell that lingered. "Please work..." She whispered, her brows furrowing just slightly as she quickly raised back up to her feet, her arms stretching back up over her head, tired, as a yawn slipped past her lightly pink glossed lips.

Driving for long hours can certain put a strain on your body, and tire out your mind.

With the idea of heading to bed, that's exactly what she did next. Slipping out of her clothing, and into something more comfortable, and breathable. Climbing into bed, she laid her head against the pillow, and immediately drifted off into slumber, her past coming back to haunt her...

Twelve Years Ago

"That's all I know..." Amber sighed heavily, telling everything that she could about her story to John. Her eyes heavy, and downcast as she could no longer look the man in his face as she felt the disappearance of her son was her fault. "If... If i had just kept a better eye on him, if we didn't have that fight... he.. he wouldn't have left the house..." The tears began to well up in her eyes, as her lower lip began to quiver, ready to break down once again.

John nodded, writing down important information in his notes - details that to her wouldn't seem quite important, but to him? Meant everything, pointed him in the right direction of what they were hunting. He just needed a little bit more information out of her.

"Do you mind, Amber, taking me to where you last seen your son? The street the police say the abduction happened? This information can help me further in finding your boy, and finding who is responsible for this," John's look in his eyes held determination, and while he tried to be sincere and feel for her, and her situation, he needed to hunt this creature. "Please," he pleaded, looking over the tired mother.

Amber, hesitantly, agreed, nodding as those tears fell down her raw, red cheeks, "O-Okay..." she stuttered, replying to him, as she pulled out of her chair, "If it'll really help find my boy, then yes, I'll show you what you need, just say the word." She wiped the tears from her eyes, moving over towards Zoey, "C'mon, dear. Let's get going..." she rubbed the back of Zoey's shoulders. She was tired, exhausted from it all, that all she did was roll her eyes, and sighed heavily, pulling up from her chair, and dragging her feet along behind her mother.

"Dean, go get your brother, and meet us outside, got it?" He questioned, pulling himself out of his wooden seat to stand, now hovering over the height of the other two girls. "Alright, dad, we'll be out there in just a moment," Dean too, got up from his seat, and headed over to get his brother Sam.

"Lead the way," He smiled to Amber.


End file.
